Masterful Player
by Mrs Bella Riddle
Summary: The old saying politics is a man's game was the way Narcissa wanted the world to think, even if she knew the truth. Challenge fic


A fic for the political challenge at His Most Faithful Forum. Featuring some words and thoughts from Narcissa Malfoy.

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The old saying, politics iss a man's game, was how Narcissa Malfoy preferred the world to think.

However, she knew the reality. She knew the statement was inaccurate. The truth was women could be the master's of the political game, just in a different way.

It was by no means guaranteed. However, Narcissa had been taught by a supreme master: Her mother. Druella Black knew her position in life and her role in the game. She passed those instructions onto her three daughters or, at least, she tried.

Only Narcissa soaked up the information.

Bellatrix expressed disapproval from the outset. She never accepted a woman's role was to stand beside her husband and, instead, she rebelled. She ripped her dresses, she coated herself with mud and, when her mother hired a tutor to teach her piano or dance, she laughed at the poor gentleman and disappeared somewhere or another when she would always return with a sweaty face, a broad grin and without a word of apology.

Andromeda at least seemed to accept her role. She listened attentively and, for most of her upbringing, she did whatever was asked. While Narcissa sung like an angel beside her, Andromeda's fingers would glide over the ebony and ivory keys of the piano with a level of clinical precision. She displayed a natural talent in the languages the tutors tried to teach her and she looked the part almost always as well as Narcissa. However, in the end, Andromeda lost faith in her mother's lessons and turned her back on all she had learned. First she had entered Healer Training then, more fatally, she had ran off with that mudblood.

In the end, Druella only had one prospective student, but she was crafted without a chink missing from her armour.

When Narcissa was only a child, she had already planned her life. Following in the footsteps of her mother, she would marry early to the most appropriate gentleman to ask for her hand. With grace and civility, she would establish herself as the pinnacle of how a young pureblood woman should be without even a hair would be out of place. Until, finally, she would grant her husband the heir he desired and her role as wife would co-exist with the dual position of a mother.

She succeeded without blight against her name or reputation. In one of the most memorable and spectacle events of the year, Narcissa wed Lucius Malfoy while she was as pure as the white dress she wore and with her mother smiling.

It was the only one of her daughter's wedding that Druella had displayed any joy. With Bella's she had only felt relief and frantic worry about her daughter's possible rebelling. Of course, she had never been present at her blood traitor daughter's nuptials.

After longer than she would have preferred, Narcissa eventually finalised the outline of her duties by giving birth to the Malfoy Heir, Draco.

Of course, that was not the whole story. Not really.

Early on she had known Lucius' ambitions. Power and a position of merit was what her husband desired and she never begrudged him that. In everything that she did, she supported him.

Everything.

What most people did not realise was that offering support involved more work than you may think. In fact, sometimes the support did more for the cause than Lucius' main actions.

Like her mother before her, she hosted the events of the season. Originally Druella had assisted. She had sat beside her daughter and murmured in her ear what names were an absolute must and how they would all fit together like a complex logic puzzle. It was an absolute must that Mr Flint sit nowhere near any woman he could flirt with, Miss Yaxley needed to be beside Mr Urquhart or she would complain and Mr Selwyn needed to be positioned as close to the bar as possible or else risk his ire after being denied his favourite part of these nights.

Then she would be dressed like a perfect painting and rest in her husband's arm as she would greet guest by guest and ensure they were all welcome and played the role each guest had. They may not know their role, but Narcissa did and she could force them subtlety to do what they needed to do.

There were other ways to control people other than the Imperious Curse.

However, there were jobs Narcissa had that her mother never had to confront. She never had to explain why her husband gripped her forearm and left a gala. She never had to explain why he arrived home late at night with a torn robe. She never had to try to maintain the right front when she knew why another member of the gala had not arrived that night and that they never would.

The once little Narcissa who worshipped her mother became the true master. She would smile brighter than any other. In her glow she would blind others to the absence of her husband or anyone else. Her words would spark conversation away from other areas. Her compliments would spark a previously dull occasion and light the bitter moods. Her arrangements were flawless and if she had to flirt with a man opposite her to stop him discussing Lucius' obvious absence.

In the end, the true master of the political game was not Bellatrix, Cygnus, Lucius, the Dark Lord or Druella. The truth was it was always Narcissa. Through every change that was thrust upon her she found a way to sidestep or twist it so everything ended up alright.

The cruellest trick of all was that no one ever realised and, unlike her mother, she never had a willing student, a willing daughter, to pass on her master craft.


End file.
